


Maybe

by Ever-so-reylo (Ever_So_Reylo)



Series: The Rise of Skywalker One Shots [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fights, Force Bond (Star Wars), Kissing in the Rain, Leia is dead, Movie: Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, star crossed lovers, vanity fair covers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 00:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18927412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ever_So_Reylo/pseuds/Ever-so-reylo
Summary: "You're wet."aka: the Vanity Fair covers came out today and my life will never be the same.





	Maybe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raven_maiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_maiden/gifts).



> For Raven, who asked me to write it (and really, for everyone else who asked for it, too, but mostly for Raven because she's my dissertating babe). (Also it's unbeta'd and not very good but the quality of this drabble is not representative of my love for you.)
> 
> There is now a [Russian translation](https://ficbook.net/readfic/8283613) of this fic!

 

 

She is _certain_ it’s all over.

Because she is flat on her back, soaked and bruised; the machete rising over her might very well be the largest weapon she has ever seen, and the knight who wields it, with his black cape and bulky mask—he must be a Force Sensitive of some kind. Rey pushes against him as much as she can, but he knows how to block her and press her out of his mind, and the machete inches closer and closer to her face, so close that her arm will give out any moment now, and—

It’s red, the lightsaber that slices through the man’s chest. And serrated. And Rey can even spot the crossguard, once his limp body has been shoved unceremoniously to the side.

Kylo meets her eyes, for maybe a second. And then for maybe another. And then he doesn’t help her up, but it’s okay, because Rey can scramble to her feet all by herself; call her lightsaber to her hand, and guard his back as he protects her from someone coming at her from the right.

Together, they kill five more men. And it’s not even their best day.

 

…

 

There is no time to talk, after that. But that’s not really a problem, because Rey thinks that Kylo probably wouldn’t have spoken to her, anyway. So they simply stand side by side in silence, the smell of seawater and burned flesh thick and sickening around them, and stare at the most evil thing in the galaxy as it slowly walks towards them.

It’s smiling.

And then it’s laughing.

Rey shivers, and for the first time in over a year, Kylo opens the bond.

_I didn’t know you were scared of the dark side._

Rey huffs out a laugh, and then launches her attack.

 

…

 

When the Emperor dies—he’s not like Luke, or Leia, or even Snoke. He is so powerful that when Rey cuts off his head with her lightsaber, the Force craters. It’s like a vacuum sucking everything in, knocking everything out; it’s as powerful as a thousand stars collapsing, and they both find themselves paralyzed, gasping, on their hands and knees in inches of mud.

When she finally manages to get on her feet, Rey finds that Kylo is already standing. He is watching her, waiting for her, studying her in silence. And Rey—Rey has no idea why. But completely misunderstanding Kylo’s motivations is a mistake that she has made once before.

So she unsheathes her saber; and then watches him briefly close his eyes, and do the same.

 

…

 

Her injury from their recent duel in the desert still hasn’t healed—no time for bacta—and her muscles are burning with exhaustion—not time for sleep—and the combination of sand and dirt and seawater makes the old durasteel shell of the Death Star slippery in a way Rey can’t quite get used to.

That’s what she tells herself when Kylo’s lightsaber begins to crackle closer and closer to her neck, and then a few seconds later, when he rips her sword from her grip and sends it flying into the sea.

Rey tries to call it back with the Force. And when it won’t come to her—she can only run. So she just takes a step back, and another, and several more, until she turns around and there's nothing behind her. She’s standing by the edge of a deep, black chasm; it’s what’s left of the interior of the Death Star, and she can’t see the bottom of it, except for jagged rocks and sharp spikes. Behind her, the whooshing sounds of Kylo's saber are getting increasingly louder.

So maybe she _was_ right. Maybe it _is_  over.

Rey closes her eyes.

It’s—fine. It really is. Poe and Finn and Rose will lead the Resistance into whatever victories are left to obtain, and Hux is imprisoned, and there is no real First Order to speak of, not anymore. Rey is mostly alone, anyway, and—it’s _fine_ , except that she really didn’t think it would be Kylo who—

A clanking sound has her whirling around. 

Kylo is standing a few inches— _less, less that that_ —from her. And his hands are empty. And his eyes are on her.

And then he’s even closer, and his hands are full, and she can’t see his eyes anymore.

“You’re wet,” he mumbles against her lips.

Rey exhales, and leans into him.

“And you’re cold.”

 

…

 

Leia, Lieutenant Connix says, asked that her ashes be scattered on Tatooine.

Rey finds it a remarkably odd choices, but she keeps the thought for herself. She doesn’t really have anyone to tell, after all. On her right, Finn his hugging a weeping Rose with one arm and Jannah with the other. On the left, R2 lets out the occasional subdued beep.

“She told us to never lose hope,” Poe is saying from the makeshift podium. He’s not even attempting not to cry. “And she was right. Hope must never die.”

What’s left of the Resistance nods tearfully. Rey does, too.

No one looks east; no one notices the man standing on a granite rock, nor the wind flowing through his black cape.

 

…

 

He is still wearing black the next time she sees him, but it somehow seems like a completely different color.

Coarser. Cheaper. Lighter.

He is squatting down, busy repairing what looks like an old fifth class worker droid. There is dirt on his face, and his knees are caked in mud and dark green grass.

His hair is dump and… not quite sticking to his ears, but something like it. It’s a lovely sight, in a sense of the word that Rey did not know existed before this moment.

“Hi.”

He lifts his eyes, and doesn’t smile. “Hi.”

He is not surprised to see her. He cannot be. The half-open bond, it was a clear beacon. For her to follow.

Rey steps closer, and the droid looks even more beaten up than she had initially thought. “What’s wrong with the restraining bolt?”

Kylo shrugs. “Not sure. Care to help me figure it out?”

She sets her duffel bag under the small portico, and then comes to kneel next to Kylo. He smells like salt, and sandalwood, and petrichor.

“You’re wet,” she tells him, picking up the control unit.

“It’s been raining.” Kylo hesitates. Just a moment, but she can feel it. It vibrates between them. “It rains a lot, here on Jabiim.”

Rey hums, and spots the defect in the bolt. “I like the rain.”

She thinks that maybe he smiles a little.

 

…

 

He tells her that she likely pulled a muscles on her inner thigh. He is probably right—Rey remembers falling awkwardly in a puddle of some mysterious dark gunk on the Death Star, right after tripping on what used to be some kind of command console.

The bacta Rose gave her helped, but Rey's muscles are still sore, and when nighttime falls Kylo nudges her towards the chair closest to the fireplace and kneels in front of her, using his large hands to massage the fleshy part of her leg.

It’s _divine_.

“You’re good at this,” she murmurs.

He says nothing, so Rey closes her eyes and listens to the pitter-patter of the rain, to the twigs popping in the fire.

And then he says something: “My mother would do this for me, when I was a kid.”

Rey nods, and combs a hand through his hair.

 

…

 

When she opens her eyes, he has been awake for hours.

She’s not sure how she knows that—the arm wrapped around her waist is completely still, his breath on her nape is warm and even, and his heart is beating steadily against her back. He is as quiet as he always is. And yet.

“Can’t sleep?” Her voice is raspy. She is a little thirsty.

Kylo doesn’t answer. Which, Rey knows, means yes.

“Mmh. Can I help?”

He thinks about it for a minute. And then pulls Rey further into himself, and murmurs in her ear, “I think so.”

His hand is so large, it’s almost comical. His fingers span the width of her hips and his palm can cover her entire belly, and it’d made her laugh, the first time she’d noticed. Though Kylo hadn’t laughed—he’d just stared and stared and _stared_ , out of breath even though he wasn’t even moving.

“Can I…?

He doesn’t finish, but Rey nods. Because—he can.

“You’re wet,” he murmurs, a deep rumble coming from his chest.

Rey laughs through her gasp. “Of course.”

She is still sticky, between her legs. Wet from last night. Wet in both holes, and it’s trickling down into one single stream that has probably already soaked their sheets. Kylo doesn’t seem to mind, and just presses her into the mattress. Rey can’t quite control the noises she makes— _oh oh ooh_ —and ends up biting into the pillow when he pushes inside and bottoms out. He can’t quite control himself, either: he grips her hips and thrusts inside her precisely like he wants to, precisely like the images of her he always has floating around his head. “Be good,” he groans in her ear. “Be still.”

The pleasure, it’s crippling.

So she asks for _"more, please, just a little more"._  And he gives it to her, but suddenly it’s _"too much"_ , and _"too good"_ , and _"please, please. Please."_  Their fingers clasp together at Rey’s waist, and then Kylo grunts his orgasm into her neck, flooding her like a dam breaking. Rey smiles silently, and doesn’t tell him how sublime he is.

They are still holding hands when they fall asleep.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me [on Twitter! 💕](https://twitter.com/EverSoAli)
> 
> Pls look at this [stunning moodboard](https://twitter.com/sofondabooks/status/1131422684166778880) @sofondabooks made 😭😭😭💕


End file.
